


The Twelve Prompts Of Christmas

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Hurt/Comfort, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Christmas prompts, First Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: ...Or thereabouts!
Relationships: Templeton "Faceman" Peck/John "Hannibal" Smith
Comments: 90
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short series of fills for some truly wonderful Christmas prompts made at the HannibalFaceForever io group. Each deserves a far more fully-formed story than I've managed, and hopefully others have picked up the same ideas and run farther and faster than I have managed to do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face spends his first Christmas with his team and he’s not sure what to make of them and their festivities. (Can be at a base or in the field on a mission).

Hannibal knows his latest baby Ranger is still getting used to his new team, even after nearly seven months living with them and working with them. Sure, he’s finally earned his own nickname, and he’s established his role as the one who can get anything for anyone in anyplace, and he’s more than proved himself in battle to each and every one of them, even Sergeant ‘Butch’ Cassidy who’d spent most of the kid’s first month ignoring him completely.

But as December rolls around and it becomes increasingly clear that they won’t be back in the States for Christmas after all, the newly-christened Face suddenly starts to seem a little less sure of himself, as if it’s his first days all over again. 

It’s been an absolute pleasure for Hannibal to watch young Second Lieutenant Peck develop, guiding him as much as he can and making sure the kid gets every opportunity to learn from the other Rangers in Hannibal’s unit as well. Face – and was there even a handle that suited someone so perfectly? – is going to be an incredible Ranger, with his brilliant tactical mind and a determination that sees him leap enthusiastically at every chance he gets. 

The kid is an absolute natural with a sniper rifle and he’ll be leaving them for a few weeks in the new year to take an advanced sharp-shooting course, a course usually reserved for Rangers with a few years training behind them rather than only a few months. And Face is a gentleman too, trustworthy and with a huge heart, and he’s also utterly adorable with his huge blue eyes and wavy hair, though of course Hannibal is concentrating hard on ignoring those utterly inappropriate feelings.

Hannibal knows a little about the kid’s background, just the bare bones from his file, and perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise when he starts to go a little quiet around the campfire whenever the other boys start sharing their family Christmas traditions. The boys talk about Christmas trees and family feasts and whether they open their presents in the morning or after Christmas dinner, and Face just listens. They talk about how many lights they can get on the outside of their house, about memorable displays their parents managed to create, and Face bites his lip, almost nervous.

Hannibal isn’t the only one who notices. His team has twelve men at the moment, not including himself and the kid, and not one of them is usually known for their tact or sensitivity, but it’s strikingly apparent to Hannibal that they aren’t pushing Face to join in like they usually do. Instead, they just let him sit close, one of them often throwing an arm around his shoulders as they share family traditions, or argue about which type of stuffing is best with a Christmas turkey.

One night talk turns to favourite Christmas carols, and Captain ‘Sandy’ Sanderson leads an impromptu chorus around the fire as they pass a bottle of whiskey between them – provided by their youngest member, of course, and it’s Hannibal’s personal favourite brand too. Some of the men don’t know all the words, not that it stops them joining in, but after a moment Face’s voice rings out high and clear over them all, his light tenor joining beautifully with Sandy’s melodious bass. Each of the other voices gradually fades away until just Face is left singing, his crystal blue eyes staring unblinking into the depths of the campfire and a small smile on his lips.

And when the song is over, after a moment of slightly stunned silence, Face starts to speak, his voice soft. To Hannibal’s surprise he tells his new team about the carol services at his care home, how much he always loved being in the choir. He tells them about trying to stay awake at midnight mass, about loving the candlelight and the incense, and how magical it always seemed walking back to the dorm rooms in the early hours of the morning.

As far as Hannibal knows, this is the first time Face has shared anything about his past with the team, and his heart fills with love for all his boys as CJ passes Face the whiskey and Sparky mentions his love for his foster sisters and Boxer produces a bag of popcorn from somewhere. Hannibal just moves silently over to sit by Face and drapes an arm around his shoulders, tugging the boy close and relishing the way Face leans into him.

This will be Face’s first Christmas in the field, and Hannibal remembers his own, far too many years ago now. The kid’s got a family of his own now, and they’ll all make sure it’s a Christmas to remember for their youngest and newest member.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As everyone departs for the holiday Hannibal notices that Face has nowhere to go. When asked, Face plays it off as if it is no big deal; but Hannibal isn’t so sure. What does he do about it?

The junior officers’ accommodation block is oddly deserted, even though it’s only early evening, and it’s quiet. Almost too quiet. Hannibal walks the corridors unchecked, his footsteps echoing on the tiled floors as he climbs the stairs to the third floor, and his knock sounds loud and harsh in the silence as he reaches door 312.

“Just a second,” comes a familiar voice from inside, and Hannibal shifts automatically to parade rest as he counts to ten, still uncertain of exactly what he’s going to say when the door finally does open. “I’m coming, hang on.”

“No rush, kid,” Hannibal calls back, smiling as he hears a muffled thump and a string of cursing coming closer. “Everything okay in there?”

“Shit. Hannibal?” And the door swings open to reveal Face, wearing a well-worn grey tracksuit, hopping on one bare foot as he rubs his apparently-stubbed toe. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Hannibal buries his hands in his pockets, amused by the way Face’s jaw drops open. Face is never lost for words, but he seems genuinely stunned to find his Colonel standing at his door two days before Christmas. “I thought the reason you didn’t come home with me for Christmas was because you were going home with Jackson to Florida instead?”

Face shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “No, well, that fell through,” he manages after a moment. “I meant to tell you.”

“Well, Jackson told me he offered but that you said you were going to stay with Suarez instead.”

“Yes, but – ” 

“Then Suarez said he heard you were going with Svenson, but I met Svenson on his way to the airport and he told me you were staying with Bentley and his brothers.”

“Yeah, look, boss – ”

“But Bentley texted me to say you told him Jackson had insisted that you go with him after all. Which brings us back to me believing you’d gone home with Jackson for Christmas.”

Face blinks, suddenly finding it hard to meet Hannibal’s gaze, and gingerly resting his newly bruised foot on the floor. “Hannibal, look, I – Aren’t you meant to be back home in Iowa by now?”

A little defensive, naturally, and Hannibal shrugs calmly then begins to explain. “My brother broke his ankle, so they’re keeping things simple this year. I found out a week ago. I’m going to fly up in January if we’re still here.”

“And your sister, and the girls?” Hannibal doesn’t know whether to be impressed or slightly scared; he has no memory of telling Face about his family, or his nieces, but he shouldn’t be surprised that the kid knows, and sounds so concerned that his Christmas plans have fallen through.

“Face, I love my family very much but I’m just going to have a quiet Christmas at my house.” Hannibal means every word he’s saying, and Face meets his gaze with concern still shining in those ridiculously blue eyes of his. “I’ve not got a turkey or a tree, but I have bought a ham and a few six-packs, and after the year we’ve had I’m over the moon just to have some quiet time to relax.” 

A soft sigh, and Face leans against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest in a way that pulls his tracksuit top tight and emphasises both his biceps and his pecs. Hannibal’s mouth goes suddenly dry and he has to force himself not to stare; his boy is at least fifteen years younger than him, and whatever tension there is between them, whatever signals the kid might have been throwing his way over the last few months, Hannibal can’t allow himself to act on it. He’s the kid’s boss, after all. He can’t.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Face asks eventually, sounding almost hurt, and Hannibal frowns.

“I didn’t tell you because I thought you were spending Christmas with Jackson, or Suarez, or Svenson, or Bentley, or anyone from our team. So the same question right back at you, I guess. Why didn’t you tell me? And why didn’t you want to go with one of them? You know they all love you, kid, you know any of them would have made sure you had a great holiday.”

Face shrugs then, looking down at the floor, suddenly looking very young in his tracksuit and his bare feet. “I didn’t want to gatecrash,” he says eventually, still a little evasive. “They’ve all got families and they should be at home with them. It’s not like when we’re all out together in the field. I thought I’d just have a quiet few days here, catch up on my sleep, then everyone’ll be back before New Year’s Eve and we can all party together then.”

Hannibal has to resist the urge to bang his boy’s head against his own front door. This complicated, selfless, idiotic boy drives him wild with frustration, yet at the same time he knows he’s in danger of falling very much in love with him. Perhaps he should walk away now. He doesn’t want to cause problems, or embarrass the kid.

Instead of walking away, he hears himself say, “We’re family, kid, aren’t we? Why can’t we spend Christmas together, just the two of us?”

“But, you just said about having quiet time – ”

“I’d love your company, Templeton.” Just as he’d intended, Face melts at the rare use of his given name. “Please, come home with me.”

And finally Face smiles, nods, and blushes beautifully. Oh, Hannibal is in real danger here, but he can’t quite bring himself to care.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two lovely little prompts for the price of one today:
> 
> Five things that Face thought about buying Hannibal for Christmas and the one thing he finally did
> 
> and:
> 
> Five things that Hannibal thought about buying Face for Christmas and the one thing he finally did

_Face_

Face has worked hard to earn his reputation as the man who can get anything from anyone at any time and in any place. He’s spent his entire Army career making friends in the right places, earning favours that he can cash in, and honing his procurement skills both in the field and back home. So the actual act of getting a present for someone is easy, once he knows what he’s going to get.

But even with all those skills and all his confidence, choosing a gift for Hannibal this year is surprisingly daunting. Last year it was so easy – a box of cigars, the expensive ones the boss really loves but won’t buy for himself – but last year they weren’t together. Last year, the notion of Hannibal returning Face’s feelings was nothing more than a distant dream.

But the dream came true, and this past year has been the very best of Face’s entire life, as he and Hannibal have taken their close relationship to an entirely new level after sharing a slightly drunken kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve. Such a cliché, but somehow just perfect; without that prompt, without the cheers and fireworks on the television as they shared a beer on the sofa, maybe it would never have happened for them. Maybe they would each have gone on thinking the other felt nothing but friendship for them, rather than falling head over heels in love with each other.

So, cigars for Christmas this year simply won’t do, they’re far too impersonal. Same goes for whiskey, one of Hannibal’s other favourite vices, and for cologne. Face briefly considers the idea of getting some sort of sex toy, but that feels almost as if he’s buying something for himself rather than for Hannibal, even though they’ve recently started exploring a slightly more kinky side to their sex life when time allows.

It needs to be something more personal, something that shows Face knows his older lover well, in a way that other people might not. For instance, Hannibal loves reading, but his tastes are so incredibly eclectic that Face wouldn’t even know where to start, and Hannibal would be too polite to tell him if he’d chosen the wrong novel or collection of essays.

Oh, but then inspiration strikes. And perhaps its actually too personal for their first Christmas together, but it’s something Face knows Hannibal will love, something he would never buy for himself. He orders it specially, and doesn’t get it engraved in the end after agonising over the decision for weeks, then slips the small box beneath the Christmas tree at Hannibal’s house. 

He’s strangely nervous while he waits for Hannibal to open it, and he can’t help biting at his lower lip as the time finally comes. Hannibal gasps as he lifts the lid, visibly stunned into silence, and for a moment Face fears he’s made the wrong decision. What was he thinking? Jewellery on their first Christmas?

But then Hannibal lifts the watch carefully from its padded box, an enormous and delighted smile spreading across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in a way that Face just finds incredibly sexy, and it’s all just perfect after all.

_Hannibal_

Face has expensive tastes, and he’s an incredibly difficult man to buy for, because most of the things he wants, he knows how to get for himself. Hannibal knows Face didn’t have much when he was just a little boy, growing up in the orphanage, so of course it’s only natural for him to treat himself now he’s grown into a resourceful man.

Which doesn’t help Hannibal when he wants to buy a present for his lover. As much as Face always says there’s nothing he needs, as much as he reassures Hannibal all he wants is to spend time with him, Hannibal wants Face to have something under the Christmas tree, wrapped in sparkly paper with a beautiful bow on top.

Fancy chocolates? Face can afford his own, usually after sweet-talking the sales assistant into a hefty discount. Clothes certainly aren’t a good idea, as Hannibal can’t tell the difference between designer and discount. Gadgets like the latest phone are pointless, as they’re never home long enough to enjoy them anyway, and sex toys feel far too much as if Hannibal is buying something for himself rather than for the man he loves. The same applies to buying a holiday or retreat of some kind, and Hannibal is at a complete loss.

But then, he stops to really think about Face. About the man beneath the mask, the person beneath the muscle, about the sensitive and thoughtful soul he fell in love with. About Templeton. About the private moments Hannibal is privileged to see, when they are alone together, the things that no one would expect a hardened solider like Face to enjoy. 

And he smiles as inspiration strikes. He knows something that will light up his boy’s handsome features, something that Face never buys for himself but will happily borrow from a friend, stretching himself out in a sunny spot for hours on end to savour in peace.

On Christmas morning, there’s a simple rectangular package beneath the tree with Face’s name on, wrapped in sparkly paper with a beautiful bow on top. Hannibal watches carefully as Face slowly peels away the tape and unfolds the paper, those gorgeous blue eyes shining with delight as he holds up the latest novel in a series of historical romances. It’s an advance copy, not due to be released until next month when they’ll be back out on deployment, and Hannibal had to call in several favours to get it.

Face immediately climbs into Hannibal’s arms and kisses him firmly, whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal loves all his boys, especially one in particular. It’s a quiet evening, the guys have all gone out and Hannibal is home alone listening to carols and sipping eggnog while staring at the tree. He considers the men and what it is he loves each of them for. ... Either verse, in service or not.

_Silent night, holy night…_

Finally, Hannibal is alone with his thoughts. As much as he loves all three of his boys, they can be a bit much at times, particularly when they’re all hyped up with a little too much Christmas spirit, tonight in the form of Murdock’s special brand of egg nog. Hannibal isn’t sure what the secret ingredient actually is, but it makes BA giggle beautifully and Face bounce off the walls.

But now, with the boys all gone off to some party, peace reigns temporarily in Hannibal’s tiny off-base home. It’s a rare Christmas when the four of them are actually home in the States rather than out in the field – this is the first in the last four years – and they’ve decorated in true over-the-top style. Each of his boys has wanted to bring their own personal traditions to the holiday, and Hannibal has happily indulged each one of them, from BA’s family recipe gingerbread cookies, to Murdock’s planned Christmas Eve boxes, to Face’s whispered request to attend church each week during Advent.

And now Hannibal is finally alone to indulge in a particular tradition of his own, albeit a more grown-up tradition that he used to share with his Father. A quiet drink or two with only the lights from the Christmas tree for illumination, with a carol service playing on the radio in the background – his family were never church-goers, and while he’ll happily keep Face company, Hannibal is more content just to listen to the songs he knows so well.

_Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the new-born king…_

He hums a little, settling deeper into his favourite armchair and swirling his remaining egg nog a little before taking another satisfying sip. From long years of experience with Murdock’s cooking, the secret ingredient could be anything from engine oil to grass, but it certainly is delicious and Hannibal has a stomach made of steel after years of Army rations.

Murdock is, without a doubt, the most creative person Hannibal has ever known. The things the man’s mind comes up with are beyond belief for someone like Hannibal Smith, who considers himself to be a fairly straightforward man. Murdock is always coming up with a new voice or a new game or a new topic of discussion – a recent question was whether they would all prefer to be boiled in a vat of water or roasted in a giant oven, which provoked a surprisingly intellectual debate over pizza and beers.

Yes, there are dark moments that go along with the crazy creativity, but Hannibal wouldn’t change Murdock for anything in the world. It’s a privilege to know the man, a man who is also sensitive and thoughtful and who truly cares about his friends, his team in particular. It’s been a particular pleasure for Hannibal to watch his friendship with BA develop over the years after such a rocky start, and the two men are now true brothers.

_Once in Royal David’s city stood a lowly cattle shed…_

Of course BA was always going to be wary of Murdock after their first hours spent together. Murdock had tried to set Face’s arm on fire and stitched a lightning bolt into BA’s, then BA had nearly fallen to his death from a helicopter. Hannibal had been worried that he’d struggle to form a true team out of two such different men, but in the end BA’s big heart had embraced the crazy pilot and, while true words and moments of affection were few and far between, he knows the two men would die for each other in a heartbeat.

Bosco Baracus is another remarkable man, one Hannibal admires very much, and one who reminds him so much of himself as younger man. Such rigid moral beliefs, such a natural honour code, and such a generous mind. BA’s trust, once won, is unshakable and worth more than its weight in gold, even though he buries his true feelings beneath a gruff mask. 

And of course BA has his own dark moments, cursed as he is with a short-fuse and a wicked temper. But BA is big enough to own up to his shortcomings, and Hannibal admires the way the man always admits his mistakes, apologising when necessary and making up for his errors in any way he can.

Hannibal will always remember the first time he saw that trait in action, when BA apologised to Face for jumping to assumptions about him. Hannibal had been stunned into silence while BA explained how he hadn’t looked beneath the surface, had assumed Face was just a pretty boy and a bit of a whore, but how he realised that there was much more to the man and he hoped they could be friends.

_Away in a manger, no crib for a bed…_

Face, naturally, had laughed it off, telling BA they were already brothers and that all brothers fell out from time to time. Face had given BA a huge bear hug and everything had been forgiven, but only Hannibal had known just how much BA’s words had meant to his lover. Face has spent his entire life being judged – for his looks, for his lack of parentage, for his reputation – and to be accepted for who he is means more than words can say.

Similarly, Hannibal doesn’t have the words to say just how much he loves Face. After more than ten years as lovers, living together and working together and loving together, Hannibal sometimes wonders just how he got to be so lucky. A grizzled old soldier like him, and a young handsome brilliant man like Face… He couldn’t list all the things he loves about him for fear of missing something; Face is simply everything to him. Anything more than that, and words fail him.

And so for now he simply raises his glass and drinks a toast to the love of his life, and then drinks a second to his two other boys, while the carols play on in the quiet house. It’s less of a home, somehow, when the three younger men aren’t with him, but he also knows to enjoy the peace while he can. The chaos will return soon enough.

_Oh come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas AU. Murdock is a Christmas angel spreading good cheer and righting wrongs, however large or inconsequential they may be. The other guys can be be in any situation you choose, in service, on the run, or never having served. Bonus points for Murdock’s costume including Chuck Taylor’s and a handmade fairy wand.

“You okay there, buddy?” Face couldn’t help but notice Murdock was an odd shade of green as he staggered into the kitchen, and he quickly poured his friend a mug of Hannibal’s special Extra Strength coffee. “Here, get that down you. I didn’t think you had that much to drink last night.”

It wasn’t quite a question; they’d been side by side most of the night, along with BA, at the Christmas Party Of The Year thrown by Major Simkins and his wife. They’d all had a few drinks admittedly, but nothing too crazy, and Face had crawled quite happily into Hannibal’s arms when they’d got back in the early hours of the morning then slept like a log. But Murdock looked as if he was nursing the hangover from hell.

“Had the strangest dream.” Murdock dropped heavily into a chair, accepting the proffered caffeine as if it was truly the nectar of the gods. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Face hummed in sympathy, watching as Murdock downed half the mug in one go. “Maybe no more egg nog?” he suggested, only partly in jest. “Or at least no more secret ingredients. What the hell was it, anyway?” It had tasted incredible, though Face was always a little nervous with Murdock’s secret recipes now after a brief bout of Bell’s Palsy a few months ago.

“You don’t wanna know,” Murdock mumbled, eyes half closed. “That’s what you said last time, remember? And I remembered not to tell you.” 

With that, Murdock dropped his head down to the table with heavy thunk, and Face winced a little. “Easy, Murdock. You wanna tell me about the dream? Might help?”

“I was a Christmas angel, or a fairy maybe. Had wings. Had a fairy wand made of tissue paper and a stick, and had my Chuck’s on.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Didn’t have anything else on.” 

Oh, okay, it was one of those dreams – Face stifled the urge to laugh at the pitiful moan that slipped from Murdock’s lips. He grabbed the coffee pot and refilled his friend’s mug before asking, “So, what did you have to do as the Christmas angel?”

Murdock lifted his head just enough to drain his coffee completely, then rested it back down a little more gently. “I had to put right things that once went wrong, hoping each time that the next leap would be the leap home.”

At that, Face did snort with amusement, though he tried to swallow it back down. “That’s Quantum Leap, buddy.”

“Yeah, but I had to spread Christmas cheer too.”

“Bet everyone cheered right up when they saw your pale ass flying at them…” And at the glare Murdock levelled at him, Face finally dissolved into fits of laughter once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, not a real fill - sorry! Couldn't find a way in to this one, but hope it raised a small smile at least.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the Christmas hustle and bustle, all Face wants for Christmas is some quiet time with Hannibal, will he get it?

For once, Face was being the perfect patient. Ordinarily he would be doing everything he possibly could to escape the medical tent, but with only one short week until Christmas he was determined to be released officially before then, rather than risk being chased by the medics trying to check up on him or, even worse, ending up back in a bed with a relapse.

And okay, he’d have to admit he actually felt bad enough to stay put for a few more days too. Whatever virus had ripped through the camp had really hit him hard, leaving him weak as a kitten and burning with a high fever, and he’d been tucked up in a medical bed hooked up to numerous IVs for four days already, only now starting to finally feel a little human once again.

He wasn’t the only one struck down, at least, and he’d never seen the medical tent so full, nor so busy; the virus had spread fast enough that any attempt at quarantine had been deemed pointless. Each and every bed was occupied with soldiers in varying stages of recovery, and that also meant there was a steady stream of visitors trying to spread some festive cheer.

His own team had hardly left his bedside since he’d been admitted, and friends from across the camp had stopped by too, most of them wearing silly Christmas hats or draped in tinsel. He’d smiled weakly through most of the visits, and slept through quite a few others, comforted by the hum of conversation and laughter all around him. But today was different, today he felt more connected to the world again, and he knew there was little chance of getting the only thing he truly wanted.

Hannibal was right there, of course, sitting on the single chair by Face’s bedside reading a novel, an oasis of calm in the busy tent. Face just had to turn his head on the pillows to see him, and Hannibal would always somehow know he was looking, meeting Face’s gaze with a warm, tender smile, waiting to see if Face needed anything.

But they weren’t alone, and they never would be alone, not in what seemed to be the busiest medical tent in all the United States military. And all Face wanted was two minutes alone with the man he loved. Hell, one minute would do. Thirty seconds, even. Ten seconds.

Hannibal couldn’t hold Face’s hand here, or stroke the sweat-damp hair back from Face’s forehead, or even press a soothing kiss to Face’s fever-dry lips. Suddenly being unable to touch Hannibal made Face realise just how much he’d come to need that physical contact – sure, Hannibal could rest a friendly hand on Face’s arm or squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, but it wasn’t enough.

If Face felt just a little healthier, he’d be up and out the door, but until his legs felt strong enough to hold him up and until he thought he could stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, he’d have to stay put. Seven short days until Christmas, and he was determined to be back in what passed for home here in Iraq – back in the team’s oversized tent, with drapes separating one back corner for the king-size bed he’d scammed for himself and Hannibal. 

Face squeezed his eyes shut and sighed softly, shifting his shoulders weakly on the pillows and hating the ache that shivered through his muscles at the simple action. A warm hand suddenly came to rest over his wrist, squeezing gently, and he peeled his eyes back open to see Hannibal watching him with a small smile on his lips.

“Soon, kid,” Hannibal said softly, blue-grey eyes shining with love that only Face could see, his thumb stroking gently over Face’s pulse point. “We’ll have you home soon. Just in time for Christmas.”

And Face surprised himself by smiling back as he drifted off into a healing sleep once again, Hannibal close by his side. For now, it was enough.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know their horse breeds? Each of the team is a horse in a stable. Which breed corresponds to each member? Write a holiday story around it.  
> Better with dogs? Same as above only about dogs.  
> Cat fancier? How about guinea pigs busting out of a pet shop on Christmas Eve?
> 
> ...another 'not quite a real fill' fill! Hope it might raise a smile or two at least...

Another morning after the night before, and this time Face was definitely feeling a little worse for wear. Not hungover, no. Just… well, maybe he was a little hungover, just a tiny bit. 

His head was pounding and his stomach was churning at the thought of anything stronger than simple coffee, so he didn’t have much sympathy when Murdock staggered into the kitchen with bloodshot eyes and his hair standing impressively on end. Face grunted softly, raising his mug in salute, but didn’t make a move to help his friend find his own coffee. If he stood up, it was entirely possible he’d either fall down again or simply throw up all over the floor.

Definitely hungover. 

“I had the weirdest dreams, Faceman,” Murdock said in lieu of a proper greeting, and Face’s sluggish brain struggled to process the statement.

“Oh,” he managed eventually, just as Murdock dropped down heavily into the chair by his side. “Huh.”

“You were a cat. And the big guy was a guinea pig.”

“Oh,” Face managed again, then wondered if this was really a conversation he was awake enough for. Where was Hannibal when he needed him most? “What were you, then?”

“I was the pet shop owner. You were in my pet shop, then you all staged a break-out. I think it was Christmas. There was tinsel.”

Face took a long slow sip from his coffee. He needed more coffee. And perhaps bacon. “Okay,” he said eventually. “What about Hannibal? Was Hannibal there?” A dog, maybe, or something exotic like a snake or a gecko perhaps. He really wasn’t alert enough for this. 

“Hannibal was a horse. Of course.” 

Well, of course. Face nodded once and Murdock nodded back, then they sat and drank their coffee in silence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filling my own prompt here, if that's allowed...! Taken from chapter 3:
> 
> A slightly drunken kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve. Such a cliché, but somehow just perfect; without that prompt, without the cheers and fireworks on the television as they shared a beer on the sofa, maybe it would never have happened for them. Maybe they would each have gone on thinking the other felt nothing but friendship for them, rather than falling head over heels in love with each other.

It wasn’t the New Year’s Eve they had planned, all those months ago, but it was the one they both desperately needed; they’d only arrived back in the States that afternoon after three months on deployment, nearly two weeks late. While BA had piled straight onto a flight home to Chicago – armed with enough sedatives to sink a battleship – and Murdock had headed straight towards what promised to be a legendary on-base party, Hannibal and Face had found they didn’t have energy to do anything more than order a pizza and collapse onto Hannibal’s sofa.

There was beer as well, of course, and as the evening wore on they each found themselves beginning to unwind after the tension and stress of their time out of the country. Side by side, pressed together shoulder to knee, they each sank gradually deeper into the cushions of the well-worn sofa, Face’s heavy head slipping down to rest on Hannibal’s strong shoulder as they breathed together in perfect harmony, slow and steady and deep.

The television played quietly in the background as they talked a little about everything and nothing, each just as content to just be silent for a while and breathe. They knew each other well enough now to understand that sometimes no words were necessary.

As midnight approached and the television started to show live footage of celebrations from across the country, settling eventually on Times Square and the infamous ball, Face slipped further down against Hannibal’s side, and Hannibal’s arm slid around Face’s shoulders to pull him close. They’d each had a few beers, each were exhausted and achy, yet each were determined to stay up to see the new year in.

When the ball finally dropped, when Hannibal finally muted the sound of the cheers and fireworks on television, Face lifted his head, looked up at Hannibal, and said very softly, “Happy New Year, boss.”

And Hannibal just closed the few inches between them to kiss Face gently on the lips, as if it was something they always did.

The kiss lasted only seconds, but the silence between them held for what felt like an eternity, neither of them wanting to speak, both of them looking into each other’s eyes searchingly. 

Hannibal was the one to break the silence, his arm still tight around Face’s shoulders, the younger man still pressed against his side. “Face, kid, I don’t know what to say.” 

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Face breathed, blinking rapidly with damp eyes, a tiny smile hovering on his lips. “I’m not sorry. In fact…” He leaned up then, claiming Hannibal’s lips again briefly, then again for a longer, more heated kiss.

Hannibal brought one big hand up to cradle Face’s head gently, in the very same moment Face slid his hand possessively around Hannibal’s hip to pull them closer still. And the lights from the fireworks on the television flickered all around them as they melted into each other’s bodies. They wouldn’t go any further that night, though they would sleep together in the same bed side by side, each of them wearing just their underwear. 

Tomorrow, they would talk. And tomorrow, it would begin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you truly go home for the holidays and what happens when you bring your male lover with you?
> 
> ...Mama B is back!

Her house feels like a true home this year, with the Christmas tree lights twinkling and the piles of presents waiting to be unwrapped, and her son and her three adopted boys all safely beneath her roof for the holidays.

This is all so much more than she could ever have hoped for; she’d resigned herself to another Christmas without them, hoping and praying that they were safe wherever they were, when her Scooter called a week ago to say they were back in the States for Christmas after all. Immediately she’d invited all four of them to come and stay, though she’d half-expected her son’s three teammates to have their own plans. Murdock, she knows, has family back home in Texas, and she’d thought Hannibal and Face might want their own space, such a precious rarity for the two lovers.

But instead, to her absolute delight, all four of them had arrived two days ago in her son’s much beloved van, bearing piles of Christmas presents and wearing an eclectic assortment of Christmas sweaters. They all looked a little ragged around the edges though they were healthy and uninjured, and of course she knows better than to ask about the late change in plans – a cancelled mission, a change in orders, she doesn’t care. They are here, with her, and all her Christmas wishes have come true.

She’s had even more of a houseful today as her sister and her nieces and nephews – along with her new baby great-niece, just six weeks old, the most beautiful baby since her own darling boy – have all descended too, and it’s been so much fun with too much food and games and chat and then even more food. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and they’ll all be around again, along with some of her neighbours, but then Christmas Day itself is just for her and her boys.

She looks fondly around now at three-quarters of the military’s greatest team, sprawled out across her living room. Bosco, her Scooter, is fast asleep in the armchair, head tilted back and mouth wide open as he snores softly, full of good food and relaxed in his childhood home. Murdock is curled on the floor, leaning against the coffee table, with some game console in his hands and a look of complete absorption in his eyes as his fingers fly across the controls. And Hannibal is settled in one corner of her giant sofa, long legs crossed at the knee, wearing an elegant pair of reading glasses and chewing on a pen as he ponders the crossword in today’s newspaper.

The lights from the tree paint each of them in rainbow colours, though the house is in near-silence after the happy noise and bustle earlier of having all her extended family around her. There’s just one person missing from the pretty picture, and she slips quietly out of the living room towards the kitchen, where Face has insisted on doing the dishes for her, though she’s told him a thousand times they can wait until the morning.

And there he is, her missing boy, so elegant in his emerald green waistcoat and smart black pants, though his shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow now as he stands at the sink, carefully washing each plate and mug with a look of fierce concentration on his face.

“This really could’ve waited until tomorrow,” she says softly, not wanting to startle him, though of course the trained Ranger already knows she’s there. “But thank you, Templeton.”

He smiles, shoots her a sideways glance with those bright blue eyes of his though his hands don’t stop their work. “Standing up is letting all that excellent food settle in my stomach,” he tells her as he places a cup carefully on the draining board. “It’s an entirely selfish move, honest.”

She grabs a tea towel and flicks his shoulder with it teasingly before lifting one of the clean mugs and beginning to dry it. “Still, it’s very gentlemanly of you. I can’t help noticing none of your teammates offered to help, not even that son of mine.” 

Face laughs then, quietly yet with honest happiness clear in his voice. “I really don’t mind, Mama. It’s the least I can do, after you’ve put us all up in your home once again at short notice, and for Christmas too, with all your family here. You’ve been so good to us, you always are.”

She can’t let that pass without comment, and she pauses in her drying duties to pop up on her tiptoes and press a firm kiss to his stubbly cheek. “You’re my family too, baby, and this is your home too, anytime you want it to be. You know that, right?” 

He doesn’t answer immediately, but his cheeks flush a little and he nods just once, visibly swallowing hard. 

_Talking of home…_

She wants to ask, but she’s not sure if she can, or if she should. It’s been such a wonderful day but it hits her once again, the delicate line she still feels she has to walk with this young man. She’s known him for six years now, and they can talk about nearly anything, though the last thing she wants is to bring up unhappy memories for him.

Still, she does know him, and she loves him. 

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, son, but I can’t help wondering if you ever go back to visit your old home?” She knows he will understand exactly what she means; his orphanage, the Catholic care home where he spent most of his childhood. She fully expects him to deflect the question, to shy away, but to her surprise he answers immediately.

“As often as I can. I made it back for a long weekend over the summer, just a flying visit to say hi to the old place. Wish I could’ve stayed longer.”

There’s genuine warmth in his voice, and she dares to ask a little more as she puts a mug away and reaches for a plate. “There are still some of the same staff there?”

“Yeah, quite a few. Father David is retired now, but Father Patrick is there, and Sister Martha, Sister Anne, Father Jose…” His voice tails off a little, and she looks up at him as he smiles softly to himself. “It’s good to see them, when I can.”

He’s spoken to her only very little about his childhood over the years, just occasional comments made in passing, but what he has told her has mostly been positive enough. A busy care home, with overstretched priests and nuns, but with love. Just never a family of his own. An unexpected thought occurs – “I hope you didn’t feel you had to come here,” she tells him, suddenly worried. “If you’d wanted to go home for Christmas, then…”

“No, no, no.” For the first time, he pauses in his dishwashing and stands still, hands in the sink and his blue eyes growing slightly damp as he stares at the taps. “No, Mama, I wanted to come here, I promise. I was so pleased when BA said you’d asked us all.”

“But your home, your Father Patrick and the others – ”

He cuts her off again, shaking his head firmly. “But I wanted to be with Hannibal.” 

Ah. It hits her almost like a blow to the chest, and of course she should have seen it sooner. “You wouldn’t have been able to, if you’d gone home,” she says slowly, and Face sighs, heavily, picking up the sponge again and reaching for a saucepan, tension visible in the line of his muscular shoulders. 

“It’s not like they don’t know,” he says, almost dismissively, attacking the pan with far more vigour than it really needs. “They’ve met him before, and they know about us, about me. They would’ve welcomed him in with open arms and they wouldn’t have said anything bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“But I wouldn’t’ve been able to hold his hand.” His voice is so soft now that she has to strain to hear him, and her heart breaks a little for him, though she knows he would detest any sign of sympathy. “We would’ve been staying in two separate rooms, and I know most of it would be all in my head, I know they wouldn’t have done anything or said anything at all, but I wouldn’t have felt able to be close to him the way I need to be.”

It is a need for Face, she’s seen it time and time again. And Hannibal needs Face just as much, needs him close. Neither of the two men are big on grand physical displays of affection but they are drawn together instinctively; it sometimes amazes her that their Army colleagues don’t see it the way she does. “I understand,” she tells the young man she has always considered to be her adopted son, and she truly does understand, but suddenly a look of horror crosses his handsome face and he meets her gaze at last, blue eyes wide.

“I’d rather have come here anyway, Mama, honestly. We never get to see you, and it’s not like you’re our second choice, you’re always first choice – ”

She has to laugh a little at his panicked words. “Baby, relax. I’m just over the moon that you’re all here with me, and that you’re all safe and well and happy.” A shiver of movement in the hallway beyond draws her attention, and of course it’s Hannibal, now without his reading glasses, come to check on them. She places her tea towel down carefully and nods to him in greeting, though Face still seems stricken. “You hold his hand,” she tells Face, though her eyes are still on Hannibal. “And you hug him, and you kiss him, and you do whatever the two of you want to do up there in my guest room.”

Face laughs at that, finally relaxing, as Hannibal slips into the kitchen and kisses her quickly on the cheek before sliding his arms around his lover’s waist, making Face startle and jerk his arms out of the soapy water with a splash. And she slips away quietly back to the living room, leaving the two men alone together to snuggle over the dishes while they can.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdock's gone and named the turkey again. What does Hannibal make for their holiday dinner instead?

Hannibal took a slow, deep, calming breath and counted to five before exhaling slowly. “Say that again, please, Captain?”

“I said, you can’t cook Tommy.” Big brown eyes filled with tears and a wobbly bottom lip gazed at him beseechingly over the kitchen table. “He’s my friend.”

That was exactly what Hannibal thought he had heard, and exactly what he hoped Murdock hadn’t actually said. It was far, far too early for this.

“Murdock, the turkey is already dead,” he said slowly, calmly, trying to keep his voice low and his body relaxed. “It’s gutted and stuffed and prepped, ready for me to cook and for all of us to eat later on.”

“But, but… But it’s Tommy, bossman. You can’t cook Tommy.”

Hannibal blinked again, and felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his right eye. It was five in the morning, and he’d reluctantly left Face asleep in their warm, cosy bed in order to put the giant turkey in the oven. He really hadn’t anticipated needing back-up to deal with one of Murdock’s odder delusions.

He decided to try using logic. Not that logic often worked well with Murdock. “What, exactly, would you like me to do with it instead?” 

“You don’t have to do anything with him, Hannibal!” Murdock perked up immediately, practically bouncing on his toes as he sensed Hannibal weakening. “He’s just another friend! He can stay for Christmas dinner, there’s always plenty to go ‘round.”

Another deep, slow breath in and out, in and out. “Murdock, without Tommy – without the turkey there won’t be anything for Christmas dinner except vegetables and potatoes,” he pointed out, making one last ditch effort to use reason, and wishing with all his might that he could wake Face with the power of telepathy and magically summon his assistance. Face was so much better than him at talking Murdock around.

Hell, even BA would’ve been helpful.

But Face failed to appear, and so did BA, leaving Hannibal with a pilot who suddenly looked as if he might actually burst into tears on Christmas morning. And Hannibal did the only thing he could do.

He caved.

“Alright, Murdock, I won’t cook Tommy.” Hannibal turned off the oven, and couldn’t help but smile as Murdock gave a soft whoop of joy. “I think there’s steak in the freezer.” It really didn’t matter to Hannibal what they ate for Christmas dinner, it just mattered that they were all together, all safe and healthy and happy. 

“Thanks, boss. From me and from Tommy.”

“One thing, though.” Hannibal caught Murdock’s gaze and held it. “You’re the one explaining it to BA.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face is a great scammer and can get everyone what they need/want for Christmas, but what does he want?

The things that Face wants can’t be wrapped in glittery paper and placed under a Christmas tree. 

He is the man who can get any present for anyone, and he knows how to listen throughout the year so he can get them the perfect present every time. It’s a point of pride for him, and always has been – he knows what people want, what they need, even if they don’t know it themselves until they open their gift on Christmas morning.

But the things Face wants? They can’t be bought in any shop, or ordered online, or scammed through favours earned the hard way. The things Face needs, he can’t have them, and he’s learned to live with that.

He already has so much more than he ever thought he would have in his life. He has the love of a good man, and he has dear friends who are more like brothers than any blood relatives could ever be. Sure, they lost their jobs, and they were sent to prison, and they’re currently on the run and will be for the foreseeable future, but they’re together and they are free.

He doesn’t want a pardon, though he won’t deny it would make things easier. He doesn’t want to go back to the Rangers, not after the way they’ve all been treated, and he doesn’t want to be rich or famous. Material things don’t hold much pleasure for him, not even after having grown up with so little of his own, and gifted ‘experiences’ don’t last, though admittedly the memories can be nice.

Face doesn’t want for much; he’s a man of surprisingly simple pleasures. The only thing he really wants is to have Hannibal by his side for the rest of his life, and one day, maybe, possibly, he wants to be happily married with a home of their own, just the two of them. And perhaps a dog, or a cat, or both.

For now, though, what he already has is more than enough for him, and he knows Hannibal understands. More than that, he knows Hannibal feels the exact same way, though they’ve never spoken about their Christmas wishes. 

The simple gold bands they both wear on their left hands now, exchanged with a simple kiss in their bed on Christmas morning, say more than a thousand words ever could.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face disappears Christmas Eve. Who has him, or where does he go on his own? Can the team find him before Christmas morning?
> 
> This one went off in an unexpected direction, and doesn't really fit the prompt very closely at all, but I quite liked where it went so I didn't go back to rewrite it! Also, just for this one chapter, please note the rating changes to Explicit.

“You scared the life out of me, you do realise that?” Hannibal pulled Face a little more firmly into his arms, naked chest to bare back, making sure to keep the blankets high. “Are you feeling any warmer yet? And how’s the ankle?”

“I’m fine, John.” To Hannibal’s immense relief, Face sounded amused now, rather than shivery and in pain as he had been earlier. But, still.

“What on Earth were you thinking?” he asked, for what felt like the thousandth time since he’d found Face outside in the snow, with a bump to the head and an ankle swollen to the size of a coconut. “When I woke up and you weren’t there…”

Face shifted slightly in his arms, turning just enough to press a kiss to Hannibal’s lips. “I couldn’t fall asleep, and it was snowing again,” he said softly, blue eyes a little whimsical. “I could see it through the cabin window. I just thought I’d take a quick walk, look at the stars and the snow, and I’d be back to fall asleep in your arms soon.”

Snow held a strange fascination for Face, something that amused Hannibal greatly. He knew, of course, that his boy had grown up in sunny Southern California, and even during their time in the Rangers they’d spent more time in hot climates than in snowy places, so snow had always been a rarity. Face absolutely detested being cold, but he loved watching the snow fall if he was wearing enough layers, which was part of the reason Hannibal had booked this well-stocked, heated, cosy cabin for Christmas this year, just the two of them.

But, still.

“You scared me,” Hannibal said again, burying his nose in Face’s hair, careful of the small bump behind his lover’s right ear. 

“I’m sorry,” Face whispered, also for what felt like the thousandth time, and the icy grip of fear around Hannibal’s heart finally started to melt away. Face had apparently slipped on some ice, knocking his head on a rock and badly twisting his ankle, and of course there was no phone signal out there in the middle of nowhere, but Hannibal had found him and he was fine. He would be fine. “I’m so sorry, love.”

Hannibal managed to huff a laugh. “What a perfect start to Christmas Day,” he drawled, and Face laughed too, lifting his hands up to squeeze gently at Hannibal’s where they were locked around his waist.

“Could be worse,” Face breathed. “I’d always planned to spend Christmas morning tucked up in bed wrapped in your arms.”

“Hmm, really?”

Face shifted his hips quite deliberately, grinding his firm ass down onto Hannibal’s groin. “Oh yeah, absolutely.” 

Hannibal swallowed hard, trying to ignore the rush of heat through his core. Stripping them both naked had made sense earlier, in his desperation to warm Face up; sharing body heat was always the best possible plan, and having his lover cradled against his chest like this was always an absolute pleasure anyway. 

Now that Face had thoroughly defrosted and was suffering no obvious complications from the bump to his head, Hannibal found his body was reacting the way it always did to having Face’s muscular form in his arms. “What about your ankle?” he breathed, shaking his head as Face reached one clever hand back to stroke at Hannibal’s ribs. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You could never hurt me,” Face told him firmly, half-turning in Hannibal’s arms to seize his lips in a more insistent kiss. “And you strapped up the damned ankle really well. It’ll be perfectly fine if I lie still on my back, and I keep it elevated.”

Well, that sounded like a challenge to Hannibal, and Hannibal loved nothing more than a challenge, except possibly Face himself. “I love you,” he told Face as he slipped carefully out from beneath his boy, as if there was ever any doubt of his feelings, and Face sighed happily as he settled down deeper into the pillows.

“Love you too, John, truly.” 

Careful to keep the blankets tugged high over them both, leaving just their heads free, Hannibal came to rest with his legs between Face’s, the bandaged ankle safely resting on its own pillow, and propped himself up on his elbows over his lover’s stretched out body. Finally face to face, they reached for each other at the very same moment and shared a tender, lingering kiss, then another, and another, each growing steadily more heated.

“Are you sure?” Hannibal asked between kisses, the heat and hardness at his groin meeting a matching hardness beneath, but, still.

And Face just up arched beneath him, on hips and shoulders, pressing their bodies as close together as he possibly could. “Please, John, please,” he begged, eyes already half-closed in bliss, and Hannibal couldn’t wait any longer.

When they’d first arrived at the cabin Face had, as always, been the most organised lover ever known to mankind, and Hannibal reached out from under the blankets for the slick he knew was stashed safely on the bedside table. As Face kept on stroking his arms and shoulders, arching upwards again and again as they kissed as if the world was ending, Hannibal managed to coat his fingers and reached down between his lover’s parted legs to find that special, private place reserved only for him.

“Fuck,” Face gasped into the kiss, digging his nails into Hannibal’s back, and Hannibal smirked with satisfaction as he slid his first two fingers carefully into tight, dry heat. “Oh, happy fucking Christmas, boss!”

“Happy Christmas to you too, sweetheart!”

In spite of Face’s injuries, in spite of the early morning fear when Hannibal had woken up alone, this was something they both needed, always. As swiftly and as safely as he could, Hannibal scissored his fingers to stretch out his boy, and Face’s body reacted as it always did, opening up beautifully to him, and the heat beneath the blankets grew as they moved together swiftly, somehow managing keeping Face’s ankle still the entire time. 

“No more sneaking out to watch the snow fall?” Hannibal gasped as he lifted Face’s good leg up onto his shoulder, the blankets slipping away a fraction, and Face nodded wildly, tossing his head back and forth on the pillows.

“Never, I promise.” A soft whine. “Please, don’t tease me, John. Not now.”

And Hannibal finally lined himself up and slid home, Face’s body still a fraction too tight but so incredibly welcoming. 

For a long moment, they lay together, both breathing hard and fast and joined as intimately as two people could possibly be. Hannibal dropped his head to Face’s shoulder, inhaling the warm, spicy scent of his lover’s skin, and Face pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the very top of his head. 

Then, “Temp, I – ”

“Now,” Face hissed, tightening his inner muscles in a way that made Hannibal gasp, and then he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Sliding his hands beneath Face’s shoulders, keeping them as close as he could, Hannibal tried his hardest to show his younger lover just how much he was adored. In the peaceful silence of their isolated cabin, practically snowed in and separated from all the world, he rolled his hips and stroked his boy’s inner walls as firmly and deliberately as he could, all the while using his superior weight and strength to keep Face pressed into the mattress and as still as possible.

“Faster,” Face begged, then, “Deeper, please, fuck!”

Time melted away, and it could have been Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving or a rainy day in June for all Hannibal cared. The tightness around his throbbing cock, the overwhelming heat between the two of them under the heavy blankets, the slick slide of their bodies against each other, the sharpness of Face’s fingernails clawing at his spine, everything, just everything, absolutely everything – 

Face hit his peak first without even a hand to his own cock, in a sudden spasm and splash of wet heat against Hannibal’s stomach, his entire body locking up in Hannibal’s arms followed almost immediately by a surprisingly soft, satisfied sigh as he fell limp, sinking heavily into the mattress and pillows. But Hannibal couldn’t stop himself, and Face’s stroking hands reassured him that he didn’t have to.

Faster, longer, deeper, and the heat between them became almost unbearable as Hannibal took his own pleasure from his lover’s relaxed and sated body. And when his own peak finally hit, like an explosion from his core outwards, he couldn’t stay silent, shouting his pleasure out loud to the room and the isolated cabin around them, collapsing down into Face’s waiting arms, feeling those strong arms wrap around his shoulders as almost-violent aftershocks rippled through his spent body. 

They lay there together for countless minutes, both of them breathing hard and fast, shivering not from the cold outside but from the closeness and the pleasure, Face’s twisted ankle still somehow resting securely on it’s pillow beneath the blankets, and Face’s clever hands stroking slow patterns into the muscles of Hannibal’s back. Slowly, steadily they both relaxed, and Hannibal’s head came to rest on his lover’s chest, right over Face’s heart.

Hannibal pressed his lips right over the strong, steady beat, over the warm skin and firm muscle. “Happy Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered, feeling the lull of sleep beckoning to him, as Face’s arms tightened briefly around his shoulders.

“Happy Christmas, my darling,” came the breathed response, Face clearly close to sleep himself, and Hannibal let himself drift away, secure and safe with the man he loved beneath him and a long, lazy Christmas day stretching pleasantly ahead of them both.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poorly/injured Face with Hannibal trying to juggle taking care of him as well as pulling off the perfect Christmas.
> 
> Ending with a short fill for my own prompt, a little hurt/comfort to bring this to a close in time for Twelfth Night.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Hannibal was across the kitchen in two long strides, sliding gentle arms around Face’s waist and lifting the knife out of barely resisting fingers. “I thought you were lying down on the couch.”

Face leaned easily back into him, head falling back to rest on Hannibal’s shoulder and hands coming to rest either side of the chopping board. “Just thought I’d get a head start on the prep while you were outside having your cigar.”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Hannibal scolded gently, but Face just huffed, sounding amused.

“I’m not dying, Hannibal. I can stand up long enough to chop the carrots.”

True enough; Face wasn’t dying, no, but it had been a close call, the closest for quite some time. 

Hannibal put the knife down and tightened his arms carefully around his lover’s waist, painfully aware of the padded dressing taped in place over Face’s left side, nuzzling into Face’s curly hair. “You scared me,” he whispered. “And you have to rest. You’ve got eighteen stitches in your side, remember, and you’re on prescription painkillers and antibiotics. You have to stay off your feet, just for a while.”

Face huffed again, though his weight grew a little heavier against Hannibal, his legs losing some of their strength perhaps. “But, it’s Christmas, boss.”

“All the more reason to relax and let me take care of everything.” 

With surprisingly little resistance, he guided Face backwards and away from the kitchen worktop, eventually turning them both as he walked towards the living room where he’d left Face resting earlier before stepping outside in need of a cigar. With every step, Face grew a little heavier in his arms, his legs a little weaker, until Hannibal was practically carrying his lover.

Finally, Face was settled safely back on the couch, nestled in a mountain of pillows and with a blanket draped over his long legs. To Hannibal’s worried eyes he looked a little pale, but Face’s smile was still radiant if a little ragged round the edges, his bright blue eyes shining. 

“Sorry, John,” Face breathed, reaching up one hand to stroke through Hannibal’s short hair. “Didn’t mean to worry you. It just doesn’t seem fair that you have to do all the work yourself, not on Christmas.”

Face’s ‘help’ in the kitchen would actually be more of a hinderance, not that Hannibal would ever dare say that out loud; for all his many, many talents, cooking anything beyond baked beans or a simple fry-up was beyond Face. 

“Murdock’s coming over at noon, remember?” Hannibal leaned down to press a reassuring kiss to Face’s lips. “And then BA’s due back from Chicago around three, by which time the turkey will be done, and we can all eat together.”

“But there’s so much to do.” Face shifted in his nest then immediately winced, eyes pinching shut with pain. “Fuck…”

Hannibal was immediately there, cupping one hand behind Face’s neck as he adjusted the blanket with his other, pressing his lips against Face’s temple. “Easy, kid,” he whispered as he felt Face start to relax once again. “Breathe through it, remember?”

At that moment, a timer started to go off in the kitchen, a faint beeping reminding Hannibal to baste the turkey. It could wait.

Apparently Face felt differently, though, and he tried to pull away, albeit weakly. “Go, Hannibal. You can’t burn the turkey. Murdock’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m not going to burn the turkey.” But the soft beeping continued, and eventually Hannibal let Face rest back into the pillows, though he didn’t lift his hands away just yet, staring into those blue eyes he loved so much. “Promise me you’ll stay put?”

“Hannibal, I – ”

“Face, please.” Trying not to sound as if he was begging, Hannibal took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax. “I’ll turn on the Christmas tree lights, and you’ve got the remote for the tv. You’re due more painkillers in about an hour, but do you need anything else? Are you thirsty, hungry, anything?”

“Hannibal, relax – ”

“That’s what I need you to do.” Hannibal held Face’s gaze until his lover nodded once, a soft smile now on those full lips, the pain faded for now. “Let me take care of Christmas, okay? And let me take care of you too, please. Just for a little while.”

Face nodded again, slower and stronger. “Okay, boss. I promise.”

Confident that Face would stay put for at least the next five minutes – frankly, he had doubts about anything beyond that point, knowing his stubborn lover far too well – Hannibal stepped reluctantly away from the couch and headed back to the kitchen where the timer was still merrily beeping away. He had a plan in place, and everything was still on track so far, though admittedly that was likely to change the moment Murdock hurtled through the door to ‘assist’.

The main goal was that they would all be together, when it could so easily have been different thanks to one idiot with a knife the very day they had been due to fly home for the holidays. It might not be the perfect Christmas, but it would be more than good enough for Hannibal, so long as he could keep Face off his feet, which would be a challenge. 

And there was nothing Hannibal loved more than a challenge.


End file.
